


Consent

by sastieljpg (ACometAppears)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1259059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACometAppears/pseuds/sastieljpg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s the little things. Cas almost doesn’t notice them, at first; when he finally adds them all up in his mind, he wonders how he could have ever been so oblivious." Castiel acknowledges Sam's consent issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consent

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt “cas letting sam take control of little things like opening doors and deciding what to eat and just being really nice about sam’s consent issues but also them being cute together” from an anon on tumblr. Hope you liked it, whoever you are!!

It’s the little things. Cas almost doesn’t notice them, at first; when he finally adds them all up in his mind, he wonders how he could have ever been so oblivious. 

The thing is, Sam likes to let Cas take control, in bed - he doesn’t completely understand why himself, but he enjoys the angel taking care of him, and relinquishing control in a safe environment, where he knows he can’t be hurt; he can trust Cas completely. He would never hurt him. 

Never again. 

But outside of the bedroom … Well, it’s another matter.

He’d first noticed it with the little things - Sam taking great care over the clothes he wears; when he wears them. Sam eating whenever he likes, whatever he likes - controlling his own consumption of food with a concerted effort, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the angel. It’s harmless, though: as long as he does eat, and eats well, Castiel is glad of that particular little quirk. 

After thinking on the topic a little longer, the angel realises that Sam hasn’t had much control over the majority of his life: he was born into a career he doesn’t particularly enjoy; when he tried to escape it, the woman he loved was killed. That was just for starters, without including the many, many times Sam had been captured, tied up, or possessed by supernatural beings; manipulated to suit the role that destiny had chosen for him. 

Even when he had tried to make his own choices, regarding drinking demon blood, it was actually the result of manipulation … Castiel grimly sympathises with why he’d done it; why he’d tried to make himself stronger, and take control of his life … Even if it did end horribly for the younger Winchester, and haunted his life even to this day.

With that in mind, Castiel doesn’t see the harm in the less self-destructive forms of seizing his autonomy that Sam utilises: he finds it endearing, when the hunter tells him, _I’m going to make a Caesar salad for dinner. Do you want some?_ Rather than asking what Castiel wants; actively enjoys when Dean asks Sam if he wants to come out with him to a bar, and Sam feels like he can say no, thanks (even without thinking about the positive result for himself in that situation, which was that Dean would go out, leaving him and Sam free to do whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted in the bunker - but only if Sam wanted to, of course). 

Cas realises all of this anew, as Sam walks slightly ahead of him, rushing to get to the door of the shooting range first. When he gets there, he opens it for Castiel, giving him a small smile. Castiel carries on walking, passing by the warmth of the hunter; inhaling his scent, and feeling the way his soul sings when he’s next to the angel. It’s enough to make Cas’ grace resonate back - a sort of romantic, heartfelt call-and-response that would have Cas’ feathers fluttering, if they existed on a purely material, visible plain. 

When Sam feels good, he feels good. So, he lets Sam take control of his life - well, ‘lets’ is the incorrect word. It’s not up to him to give Sam his agency back, after all these years - it’s up to Sam to take it. 

And he _is_ taking it. So Castiel won’t ever try to stand in his way. 

They approach the range, Sam taking out his Smith and Wesson from the small of his back, and loading it in preparation for shooting. Castiel loves to watch him do this: he’s a brilliant shooter; it’s like watching an artist paint a picture; like watching a member of a symphony orchestra perform their part of a piece. Because, in the end, that’s what Sam is: he’s part of a larger network of selfless, brave humans, who come together and cooperate to, in the end, make the world a better place. 

It’s also highly reassuring: knowing that Sam can defend himself (and the hard-won control over his life he so desperately defends) is important to Castiel. He does not want to have to heal Sam of a life-threatening injury, ever again. 

Sam shoots at the target three times, his stance confident and proud; he watches for the recoil, doesn’t lock his arm, keeps his fingers in position; brings up his second hand to support the butt of the pistol before shooting twice more. He hits the target almost every time, but frowns when he misses two of the shots. _I’m out of practise_ , he thinks to himself. 

"Sam," Castiel says softly, approaching the hunter. Sam looks towards Castiel, lowering his weapon. "I think I know what you’re doing wrong - I can see, there’s a slight problem with the positioning of your-"

He reaches out, but before he touches Sam’s arms, to bring them up and show he what he - as a bystander with excellent vision and a high-level knowledge of how gravity and physics work - believes Sam should do to alter his position, he stops. His hands hover over Sam’s jumper, and he makes eye contact with the hunter, who is frozen still. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s intimate with Sam, or how often. He’s fought so, so hard to get where he is today; to survive, and stay strong, even when he’s had so much taken from him in the last few weeks, months years … Castiel won’t take it away from him, by causing him undue stress or anxiety. 

So Castiel will always ask. 

"May I?" 

Sam smiles, his heart warm at the hidden meaning of Castiel’s question; he wants to cry, or cheer, or fucking jump for joy cause he’s been blessed with someone who respects that he’s been through a lot, and he’s not as open as other people might be, and he’s got control issues … But that person doesn’t care. He accepts him as he is, and loves him. 

He leans forward, planting a quick kiss on Castiel’s nose, startling the angel slightly. A happy flush spreads across his cheeks, as Sam murmurs back:  
"Of course,"


End file.
